I got the pictures for this post from a contest Booooooom.com had with the team behind the Spike Jonze film adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are. The contest called for participants to send in pictures of forts they made. There are so many beautiful ones and you can click here to see some of them. Ultimately, I think the exercise served as a throwback to the world of make-believe we had as children, aside from the more obvious aesthetics strewn cloth and tea lights give us.

I wish I could say that what I miss the most would be my childhood, but the truth is far, far from that. I don't have fond memories of my childhood, but I did like building forts. It was something my brother and sister would do when we were a lot younger and bored. I was also the sort of kid that can get lost in the world of her stuffed animals and her Barbie dolls. I would orchestrate all these elaborate stories for the characters I'd create, and grownups could leave me alone for hours as I packed all my toys into a plastic car for an adventure out in my garden.

I do miss that, getting lost in a world that I create. If I think hard enough I can remember the trance I'd place myself in. I'd be so caught up with the dialogues I'd make one G.I. Joe say to one of my Barbies. I'd have tales of kidnapping, betrayal, amnesia, cooking parties, and endless trips out to the "jungle." The closest I ever got back to that world was when I wrote my first short story this year. Rather than have stuffed bears and outlandish scenarios, I drew up characters from my experiences growing up and from my friends' personalities. These characters of fiction that I created kept me spellbound for days. You couldn't tear me away from my writing pad (as I'm one of those writers that still write by hand sometimes) because my story was taking a life of its own. I drafted their histories, the way they looked, their zodiac signs even, and I just imagined how they all interacted with each other. In my mind, they became real, as if they were my dearest friends.

Then from that moment, I realized that magic never really left my life. For a long time, I was just so caught up with everyday life that I lost sight of the things that made my life worth living. To me, it was magic. It was all about possessing a sense of wonder and being able to see the world in an incredible way. I got into depth with it when I wrote an essay this year entitled "Dear Eddie Vedder."


What do I miss then? I miss intimacy with a lover. A lot of people would regard that as a sign of weakness, acknowledging that life is missing something when you don't have a significant other. I'm one of those, and I've been hesitant to admit this side of mine ever since I excavated myself from the toxic heap of endless relationships I threw myself into.

The last time I had a long-term relationship was early in 2008, and since then I've been flying solo, sometimes going on dates with some guys or hooking up with my ex's again. Those never lasted long, especially with the hooking up, when you end up feeling emptier than what you began with. It's not the assured nookie or the constant companionship I miss, I just miss looking into the eyes of someone who just gets it.

Someone that I can share the kooky observations I make about life, without having to fear them getting weirded out. I miss being on my bed with someone, side by side just staring at the prints of my walls, discussing philosophy, life, and God knows what else. I miss that, more than anyone would ever realize.

In one of my favorite graphic novels Blankets, author Craig Thompson illustrates a scene where he and his younger brother Phil were walking in a field near the house they grew up in. Craig remembers that as kids, he and his brother discovered an otherworldly cave there and explored it. Then as days went by, the earth kept caving in, burying that hollow space in the ground until one day, they just came across flat ground.

I'd like to think that I don't romanticize this connection with senses of heightened idealism, that float too high up from reality. I certainly don't go around looking for it anymore. This sort of thing cannot be forced, it just happens. I miss the moments when you find your back on the ground of a damp field with someone and you guys are just gazing up into the stars waxing about existence and the infinitesimal. I miss long drives along a quiet, cold highway singing songs you and someone both love. These are all quiet, simple moments. These are the moments that give me the most joy. I think far too much time has gone by for me to easily believe that these things have happened.

Even rarer is something I classify into the class 1 experience, that moment of tension before a first kiss. When the air feels electric and time slows down and you get more sensitive to every single sensory experience... down to smell, taste, touch. When there's no alcohol or drugs involved, when it's the right person.

It's December, and around this time every year, I start feeling really sentimental. As I carefully wrap everything up, I guess I also have another thing to request from the universe. Some magic again, please. Something real.

For sale: tickets to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Sydney Hordern Pavillion on January 8, 2010!

I’ve got 3 of ‘em up for grabs but you don’t need to buy em all!

Don’t miss this concert! (I wish I didn’t have to!)

E-mail if you are interested: ala_paredes@yahoo.com

Sniffing around for an open door to do illustration work in Manila. So hard when you've been out of the network for 4 years. I need a place to start! Don't want to leave without planting seeds.